


Sweatertown

by NinetyWrites



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Grunkle Ford's Portal Adventures, Made-Up Monster, Peril, taking advantage of the fact that more than one person in this family wears a sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinetyWrites/pseuds/NinetyWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ford pays a visit to Sweatertown on the other side of the portal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweatertown

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfiction I'm publishing online, and I know that I have a lot of room to grow, so constructive criticism is deeply appreciated. Enjoy!

Stanford Pines had never been one to make on-the-spot decisions. He was a man of logic, and before attempting to decide anything important, he always carefully considered all the options available in a given situation, weighed the pros and the cons of each, and, eventually, arrived at a conclusion as to what he would do next.

Unfortunately, when you're on the run from a ten-eyed monstrosity with large teeth and a larger hunger, thinking things through won't serve you well.

No, all you can do is run, run, run, because if you slow, even if it's only for a moment, you can easily land on some beast's dinner menu. Stanford had almost learned that firsthand, and he'd rather not take another risk like that.

So on he ran, his legs moving like they had minds of their own, dashing through the remains of what must have been a great citadel at some time, for there was a great deal of rubble that had to be navigated around. Later, once he had time to process it all, he would suspect that the destruction of the urban center had been caused by an invading colony of the very creatures he was currently on the run from.

Although he was only harrassed by one, he had caught a glimpse of at least five of the beasts while he had been hunting the previous day. They looked closest to hornets when compared to creatures from his home dimension, only they were eight feet tall and had ten eyes, jaws that made a great white shark look like a newborn baby, and stingers that shot a liquid with a lower pH than battery acid at anyone who dared disturb the hive, or at anyone who looked like a good meal. Ford had fallen into the latter category, and since he'd realized that _he_ had been targeted, he hadn't looked back to see what they looked like when they were angry.

He hadn't needed to see what that would look like in order for his heart to start pounding. He knew what these could do from some travelers he'd met a couple weeks back, who'd told him that if a Vesparta went after him, he wouldn't last ten minutes. So far, if he'd been counting, he would've estimated that the encounter was two minutes in, and the adrenaline wouldn't last forever.

He saw part of a wall from a broken building just off of his path ahead of him. _Perfect_ , he thought, his first thought not produced by basic instinct in over two minutes. He doubted he'd have time to catch his breath once he got there, and he couldn't afford to stay there longer than a few seconds, but temporary cover was better than no cover at all, and it would buy him enough time to get his gun into his hands.

Once he arrived at the crumbled wall, he'd practically dived behind it. Wasting no time, he reached for the weapon and fumbled with it, almost letting it slip out of his hands from all the sweat on his palms.

The Vesparta was blessedly slower than some of its companions, so by the time Ford had a grip on his weapon, it was still far enough away that Ford felt more comfortable shooting instead of running. A quick shot to the head killed the beast, and Ford, still shaking from the adrenaline, didn't even think to retrieve the body and see if it could be used for meat.

Instead, he sat down, his back to the crumbled stone wall, pulled his knees up close, and tried to breathe. _In, out, in, out,_ he reminded himself, _just breathe._ After his breathing returned to a near-normal pace, he looked over himself, checking for any possible injuries, and his eyes caught on his sweater. He'd seen some people occasionally put their heads inside their clothing as a means of comfort, although he'd never given it a try himself. _It can't hurt,_ he reasoned. _It's not like I have to worry about stretching this old thing._

So Stanford Pines pulled the neck of his sweater up until it covered his head and sat. He thought about how it had only been a few months since he had lost an entire life in his home dimension and had become stranded in the multiverse. He thought about Stanley, _oh god, Stanley,_ and how he would never get to go home, because Stanley had one of his journals, and, by now, he must have read the warnings. Nothing could be done for someone like him. He had interfered with forces beyond his control, put his faith and trust and the wrong hands, and wandering through this hellscape and barely escaping death every other day was his punishment.

And, although he hadn't noticed at first, Stanford Pines began to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading to the end. Again, feedback would be great. Feel free to contact me at ninety-writes.tumblr.com.


End file.
